Anshi: The Lost Eagle of the Steppes

A Winter Narrative

Anshi spent every day at the encampment now, making sure supplies were always available. Wood, coal, food for all, and making certain the livestock remained fat and healthy. It was nice, having the time now that the signing was over.

He heard that all was well in Cloud Recesses after his family returned. There was a sneaking suspicion that Lan Sizhui was seeing a special someone. But the tight-lipped young man was not letting any information slip, and the secret was driving Wei Ying, to madness. Anshi laughed, just imagining the extremes that his older brother was going to, in order to ferret out his son's paramour.

Every evening, as twilight began to fall, he rushed back to the palace because he knew his own love would be off duty and waiting to see him. Every evening was precious, not a moment wasted as they burrowed into the cocoon of Han's room. Eating a good meal, discussing their day, and reading books and poetry aloud to one another. For Han though, the times when Anshi sang songs his brother had taught him, that had been handed to him from their dead mother; their traditional songs from every culture that had blended to create the Great Eagle Tribe were pure enchantment.

However, the love songs that were crafted for the most private moments between the two lovers and sung only for Han and never another soul, it was what he lived for.

Anshi sang because he had discovered a way to bring his partner to ecstasy. The damage to Han's body haunted The Singer. His soulmate was brought only so close to fulfillment but never granted the joy of climax. Always at the edge. Always left out of that final peak. Always quietly accepting his fate.

Yet it burned within Anshi, an angry inner railing at the unfairness of it all. One particularly dark day, as he thought of this cruel twist in their love life, the emerald orb that his brother Davaajav sent, began to emit the faintest glow. Stunned, he picked it up, and its glow increased slightly. It was calming and he felt soothed by it. He took it with him to his meditation cushion that day and as he prayed, slipping deep into communication with his core,  he concentrated on accepting Han's fate as graciously as his partner did. The emerald glowed more strongly, and he saw it suddenly, softly within, and he was overcome by a simple sense of peace. 

That night, wrapped tightly in each other's arms and legs after lovemaking, he turned his gift of song into what he felt was its most sacred use. 

He sang to his love at the end, slowly and softly at first, then letting it stroke and caress Han's soul and mind, and heart all at once. It penetrated the other man, bringing him into a meeting of their two souls in a cyclonic, emotional orgasm. Bright and shining. Precious and as real as if the knife had never existed and the cut of emasculation had never been made.  

Anshi cradled his Han as the Minister wept in wonder and disbelief at this earth-shattering moment.

"This feeling? Is this what it is like?"

He was as shaken as Han by it. He had been able to help heal other minds and souls before. Not only that, but he had been able to kill when called upon, using his voice. But he never thought that he would be able to grant a gift like this to another human being, especially the one he loved the most.

And so the winter passed with soft and sensual singing, composed only for Han; an act of devout worship given by his Soulmate.

Two days a week were devoted to the Childe King. Anshi and Han played games in a large room with a wooden floor. They also practiced swordplay and archery. The Queen joined them at times, watching her son as he was given time to be a child. They became a tiny family as the winter isolated the city and the encampment in a thick blanket of sparkling white and the snow cover muffled the usual cacophony of commerce and daily activity.

And every night, the two men sank into their warm bed and sought one another out, living a lifetime during the frozen period of time they were allotted.

There were times when Anshi would arrive home (for the palace, once a place of fear and servitude, had indeed begun to feel like home to him) and he could hear muffled crying behind their door. He would wait silently and allow Han privacy for these times of sorrow. After all, he often had similar moments like that in the privacy of his yurt. Lan Sya Mu was always aware and turned people from the door when it occurred, never saying a word, pretending she saw and heard nothing. Her discretion was a godsend to him.

But the couple stayed upbeat in general. Each day was taken as a gift. They lived their life to its fullest, determined to not let the dread of the future break them down.

At one point, Han retained a painter and for a solid month the man painted portraits of both men. They were done on white silk, and in dreamy, soft watercolors. There were four commissioned, one of Anshi in his green, embroidered traditional coat, emerald eyes glowing. Another was of Han, eyes a loving, dove gray, dressed in his dark blue court attire and holding a scroll in his hand. These were given to one another, a portrait of their lover to treasure after they parted. The other two were identical and were ones each could have; Anshi and Han, sitting in profile on two silk cushions, holding hands and smiling gently into each other's eyes.

Anshi presented Han with a signet ring that bore the engraved likeness of The Lost Eagle. The gold was heavy and wide and the character of Anshi's name was cut deeply inside, hidden against Han's finger. A matching one with Han's character inside also graced Anshi's left forefinger. Once Anshi resumed his search, any urgent or personal matter would have that seal imprinted on it; it would be meant for their eyes only. The rings would not leave their fingers until death, and then be returned to rest with their counterpart. Then the other would wear them both to his tomb.

It was as close to marriage as they could come. A silent and secret ceremony of sworn men and soulmates took place in complete privacy on the battlement above their room, which looked West in the direction Anshi would one day take on the Spice Route.